Bard for Hire
by Cactusgirl329
Summary: Official mini-fic continuing my hilarious and wonderful brainstorming session with Gnome regarding Quinn and Santana pre-Dovekin. Santana tries to agitate Quinn by hiring a personal bard to follow her around. It doesn't go as planned. Dovekin!Verse. Preficquel. T- language, sexual situations, violence. Santana. Faberry. Complete.


**Summary: Official mini-fic continuing my hilarious and wonderful brainstorming session with Gnome regarding Quinn and Santana pre-Dovekin. Santana tries to agitate Quinn by hiring a personal bard to follow her around. It doesn't go as planned.**

 **Preficquel. Dovekin!Verse. T- language, sexual situations, violence.**

 **Santana. Quinn. Rachel. Faberry? Is this a Faberry? I've never done this before. Haha**

 **I just wanted to throw a shout out to godblessthefandom who enlisted me on the USS Disaster to start writing regularly again. Her fics are awesome and fun and full of delightful dialogue and I know she's working on some pretty awesome Brittana stuff.**

 **I am a hot mess of fic writing right now, but as always, I just love writing and I am so appreciative of everyone who still waits and reads. Thank you!**

* * *

 **Bard for Hire**

Solitude.

It was the seat of the High King Torygg, the apex of Imperial influence in Skyrim, and despite its namesake, the city was anything but isolated or a place of solitude. The city bustled with movement from the market, beggars, town criers, soldiers, merchants, and travelers. At times, it seemed the streets were bursting from the amount of people walking through the cobbled pathways. Solitude held the fealty of Skyrim to the Empire quite literally on the throne of the High King, but besides its political importance, Solitude was a crossroads of trade and culture, a coupling of the Empire's aspirations and the best of Skyrim's practicality and longevity.

"By Talos! I dislike Solitude." Santana knocked shoulders into a passing courier. She grunted and bared her teeth, but the young man was too busy trying to weave his way through the crowd without dropping any of the produce in his overstuffed crate.

Quinn rolled her shoulders back as if to loosen her muscles for combat and continued to make direct and threatening eye contact with any passerby. "It certainly isn't Windhelm." She sniffed at the air. "You can almost smell the Empire here." Her right hand casually dropped to the edge of her belt. Her pointer finger caressed the leather wrapped hilt of her dagger. "As such, I suggest you refrain from your usual disregard for common decency."

Santana rolled her eyes and met Quinn's stare with a satisfied grin. "By Talos's middle toe!" Santana scoffed as if she were mocking the Imperial high courts and their aloof attitudes. "-I'm not even sure what you're referring to."

Quinn refused to give Santana the satisfaction of puffing out a sigh of exasperation. "Your swearing by Talos's name. It's already disrespectful, but Talos worshipping is not looked kindly upon by the Empire and certainly not in the seat of the Empire's eyes here in Skyrim. We – _you –_ should be mindful that someone unsympathetic to Talos might overhear."

The groan of annoyance followed by the sound of Santana's shoulder slamming into another person was enough for Quinn to know Santana would at least try to curb her mouth.

"Whatever."

They passed beneath a few signs advertising the freshest produce or the most delicious bread in all of Skyrim at the market and a sign that boasted the finest ale this side of the Jerall Mountains.

Santana wiggled her brows at the sign and then at Quinn. "Finest ales this side of the Jerall Mountains, Quinn. That's quite a boast."

Quinn knew Santana's games. They had spent far too much time together, but Quinn also knew that while Santana teased now, her companion would find any excuse to actually visit the tavern.

"You say that about every sign advertising ale."

"But this one – it's not just a statement, they are clearly challenging travelers to name a better ale." Santana rubbed her shoulder against Quinn's to get closer to her housecarl. "Quinn, _we_ are travelers and I believe we should accept that challenge."

Quinn pulled out the scroll in her hand for better directions, but Santana placed her hand over the parchment to stop Quinn from reading any of the words. Mildly annoyed, Quinn finally turned and made eye contact with Santana.

"What?"

"I'm only going to ask nicely once and you're _my_ housecarl. Shouldn't you do as I say?"

"Santana, we have one very small errand to run for your father's commander. It won't take long."

"And then…"

"Yes." Quinn rolled her eyes. "But as long as you don't get us thrown into the dungeons like the last time."

"That wasn't my fault."

"You said that last time."

"Whatever, Q. Let's get your errand done so we can sample the ale and make our comparisons."

Quinn looked down between them with measured patience. Santana slowly removed her hand from the parchment with an exasperated sigh.

"We are just to deliver the message and we can be on our way." Quinn didn't wait for Santana to protest or think of another excuse. The former Stormcloak officer picked up her pace through the streets of Solitude. Whenever they passed what appeared to be an Imperial soldier, she would avoid eye contact and keep walking.

Santana never said a word, but she knew Quinn still thought about the way the Imperials had betrayed their fathers. Only one of them survived. Russell had died performing his duty and he was one of the only reasons Santana's father was still alive. They crossed through the market district and into some residential houses. Flowers lined small gardens and hung in baskets kept by doorways. In many ways, Solitude did not resemble the harsh stone and façade of Windhelm. It was hard not to wonder if Solitude had always been different from its sister city on the opposite side of Skyrim or if Imperial influence had softened its features and people.

Quinn led them down to the last house in the row and casually knocked on the door.

When there was no answer, Quinn peered closer at the door handle and then glanced to Santana. "I know you have no idea how to pick locks. I'm sure there's a key nearby. Probably under a rock."

Santana shrugged and shouldered Quinn away from the door. Without waiting for Quinn, Santana reached behind her belt and removed one of her daggers. She flipped it around, winked at the annoyed look on Quinn's face, and slammed the hilt of the dagger in three quick vicious taps on the handle. The lock and handle broke and the door swung open.

Santana smirked and flipped her dagger in the air three times before she caught it and sheathed the weapon back in her belt. "And you thought I didn't have lock picking skills."

Quinn groaned and pushed open the door. The house was dark and seemingly empty. They moved through the corridor of the house with caution, but when they were certain they were alone, Quinn motioned to open the window shutters to let in the bright light outside. As light filled the empty home, it took on a bright cheery life of its own. It was hard to deny it had a certain charm. Santana walked toward the pantry and raided the shelves for something to eat. Quinn set her sword and shield against the chair in the common room. She frowned at the door and wondered if it wouldn't be prudent to barricade it since Santana made it impossible to latch without a smith's repair.

"It shouldn't be long!" Quinn called out, already sensing Santana's impatience.

"I hope not because there isn't enough food in here to feed a bird!"

A pause.

"And there's no ale!"

Quinn didn't bother to respond, but she did smirk to no one in particular at Santana's fake tantrum. She knew Santana was trying to make herself as much of an annoyance to justify an excuse to leave the safehouse to explore Solitude. It was only a matter of time.

Four hours later, Quinn watched Santana pace back and forth through the household. In the past hour alone, Santana had polished her blades twice, played with her knives, tried to pick a fight with Quinn, attempted to braid Quinn's hair (which was immediately halted at one look from Quinn), and she had tried her hand at whittling. Now she was just pacing.

"You said it wouldn't be long."

"Santana, it's the army. Their idea of not long could be a week."

"We could be here for a week?" Santana spun and faced Quinn with a dark look in her eyes. "When you said a small favor, I thought you meant small."

"It is a small favor. One for _your_ father's army."

"But your friend."

"Maybe you could take this opportunity to make some friends of your own, Santana." Quinn quietly suggested. "We can't remain away from Windhelm forever. It would be good to have friends in high places."

Santana said nothing, but held Quinn's gaze as if deciding whether it was worth the fight with her housecarl.

"You're right, Quinn!" Santana smiled pleasantly. "I should make some friends." She dramatically lifted her scabbard and belt and tied them around her waist before she threw her travelling cloak over her shoulders and pushed back a strand of her dark hair. "I will make some friends and maybe get you some new ones while I'm out."

"Santana…" Quinn started, but the broken door to the house slammed shut. Quinn gave herself a satisfied smile. It was in both of their best interests that Santana took some time to wander around Solitude and amuse herself – hopefully without getting into too much trouble.

* * *

The sun shone brightly over Solitude as if to mock Santana's foul mood. She had been trapped in the city waiting for Quinn's mysterious contact for three days. It was tiresome and boring and she refused to go to the alehouse without Quinn for the sake of pride and to further her agitation, whenever she returned to the meeting house to find Quinn alone – again, Quinn had the audacity to ask if Santana had made any new friends.

She hadn't.

And Santana didn't intend to make any friends – not for herself. She had her sights set on something much more entertaining.

Santana unwrapped her cloak and loosened the neck of her finely embroidered tunic as she confidently strode up the steps of the Bard's College. She made sure to wear her best outfit to impress as she had heard rumors that the bards could be a fickle lot when entertaining outsiders. She normally would have just busted into the College with her swords and travel leathers with little regard for her appearance, but she couldn't intimidate a group of bards in a setting like Solitude. She would have to use _some_ finesse.

She walked through the courtyard, pulled open the doors to the college and was immediately surrounded by the sound of stings being plucked and the off-timed beating of drums. Santana tried hard not to openly frown as she still needed the bards' assistance, but it was hard not to be overwhelmed by the lack of quality in the foyer. A few voices in particular lifted in what could only be called a difference of opinion regarding a ballad's lyrics and the arrangement of the music. Santana half glanced to see a short woman jabbing her finger into a man's chest and demanding that he re-tune his lute and think about learning his scales. The other man in the argument cringed as if deciding whether he wanted to insert himself into their "academic" argument.

An important looking Altmer, a high Elf, who looked comfortable in clothes popular to the multicultural city of Solitude, eyed Santana's entrance while at the same time he frowned at the exchange between the three nearby bards.

When he didn't see a musical instrument attached to Santana's back, his eyes narrowed before he ushered her forward. "Welcome to Solitude! Home of the arts here in Skyrim!"

"Thanks."

"What brings you to our magnificent College?"

Santana glanced around the dark corridors and the wilting flowers and the three bards who continued to bicker. It wasn't exactly the most magnificent place she had been by any stretch of the imagination.

"I'm here to hire one of your bards."

"Um-" He looked her up and down. His eyes went from the circlet on her head, to the cloak, to the finely made tunic, to the swords resting dangerously on her hips. "-milady, it doesn't exactly work like that."

"Come now. I know how it works. I say I want a bard and you say no problem."

"We have contracts and rules and a process and I don't even have your name or what house you represent."

Santana smirked as he insinuated that she wasn't of noble birth, but was perhaps represented one instead.

"Santana. Just Santana."

"Well, Santana, I just can't give you a bard. There are-"

"Look-" Santana cut him off and leaned forward. "I'm not looking for the best or even an average bard, I'm looking for your most annoying one. One you could stand to be without for about a week's time and I'll make sure I double your price for brokering the deal."

"It is my personal mission to ensure that the Bards College preserves the great deeds of the past in both poetry and song. I do not meddle our affairs with the commonplace or contracts that would last _about a week's time_ -" He quoted Santana. "We are in the business of epics."

Santana stopped herself from growling at the elf's pompous attitude.

The commotion behind them grew louder as the woman stuck her finger at the other bard's face. "I demand a song duel between us if you can't admit that you are wrong and off key and a poor example of teaching at the school."

The high elf frowned. "Please be respectful of the instructors here at the school and there will be no song duels between a full member of the Bard's Guild and a lowly student like yourself, Rachel."

"But!"

"No excuses and I won't tolerate another outburst from you in the main hall again! This is not a College for Theatrics!"

The short woman named Rachel huffed up at the dismissal, but she didn't say another word. Santana placed a hand over her mouth to stop herself from laughing at the indignation all over the girl called Rachel.

"Her." Santana stated.

"What?" The high elf was puzzled.

"I'll take her off your hands for small commission to her and a hefty sum for you."

"But-" He balked. "Rachel is but a student."

"Can she play and verse?"

"She's one of our most skilled students, but she's a little…stubborn…and a bit of a show-off."

"Ha!" Santana barked. Her mouth twisted in a delightful smile. "The Bard's College thinks one of their own is a show off? That must be a first. That's perfect for what I need a bard for and I won't take no for an answer."

To make her point, Santana shoved a pouch of gold into the headmaster's hands.

"I'm sorry, but I must refuse!" He shook his head empathically and turned her away. "This is not how the Bard's College conducts its business."

Santana had half a mind to draw her blades, but she knew the bard wouldn't be worth the aggravation. She collected her things, tightened her cloak, and made to leave, but before she cleared the courtyard, an unfamiliar hand grabbed her forearm.

"I heard you need a bard." The girl named Rachel addressed Santana with confidence.

"I heard you are only a student."

"A student? Yes. But more than capable of fulfilling any contract available."

"Why would I hire you?" Santana looked the girl up and down. They were not so different in height or age, but Santana felt as if she had the upper hand in the situation since she would be the one hiring Rachel's services.

"For starters, I know you are not just anyone. You are Jarl Ulfric's daughter-"

Santana's eyes widened at Rachel's proclamation. How did she know Santana's parentage?

"-secondly, I am looking for a means of distinguishing myself from the rest of the bards and since you are the daughter of a Jarl, you must have something interesting to offer."

"Fine. You're hired." Santana narrowed her eyes.

"You haven't even heard my price yet."

"Price? You are a student."

"And you are hardly a courtier, much less a thane or someone with power in Solitude. You might not even be able to prove your relation to Jarl Ulfric unless there is someone here from Windhelm to verify your name. And bards – even students such as myself – are very hard to come by. Therefore, you will accept my price."

Santana growled, but didn't refuse.

* * *

Seven days.

Seven days of non-stop rhymes and songs and epics and all of them dedicated to Quinn.

Seven days and Quinn had hardly batted an eye at the interruption to her daily routine.

Even the first day, Quinn rose from bed at the sound of a voice entertaining the house calling her name. Quinn said nothing, but she stood at the window for the entirety of the first song and then inclined her head as if to thank the bard for her time. Santana had been hoping for a more visible reaction, but she knew Quinn would have to blow up after at least a day of Rachel's inane, never-ending versing.

And "never-ending" was an understatement.

Whether they travelled to the market or walked outside the city halls or visited a merchant, Rachel was always a few paces behind with a new line. She was everything Santana could have hoped for in a bard, but Quinn barely blinked an eye. Sure there were a few times that Quinn acknowledged Rachel – to ask if she was hungry or thirsty, to offer a cloak when it rained, or ask for an opinion on the merchants at the market, but Quinn never reacted to the singing.

Seven days of unbreakable Quinn Fabray and the crooning bard Rachel and Santana needed a Talos blessed drink…

…or several drinks.

Quinn had finally completed her mission for the Jarl's troops and as promised, she asked if Santana would accompany her to the tavern to celebrate.

"Finally!" Santana moaned and grabbed a blade and a few knives. "I thought we were going to be stuck in this plane of Oblivion forever!"

They weren't even three steps outside of the house when Rachel's strumming accompanied their every step. Santana didn't even care. They were finally going to have the prized ale of Solitude.

Santana didn't wait for Quinn as she knocked open the door for the tavern and immediately started heading toward the tavern keeper. Quinn, however, lingered and held the door open for Rachel and rolled her eyes as she watched her friend approach the counter like a predator.

They were only a few steps into the tavern when a voice called out.

"Hey, bardy! Why don't you come over here and play me a song?" One of the tavern patrons whistled in Rachel's direction. She ignored it and continued to walk, albeit slightly closer to Quinn and Santana.

"Hey! Didn't you hear my buddy?"

"Don't bother." A third voice, an off duty patrolman, slapped his buddy on the arm. "They let women into the bard's guild now like they do in other countries and just like in other countries, everyone knows what they really are. Whores made to sing and dance." He pulled out some coins and dropped them on the table. "They only respond to the sound of money."

Rachel exhaled through her nose, but continued to ignore the men's words. She was under contract and furthermore, she was determined to uphold the dignity of her craft even in the face of such mean and debased observers.

"Are they bothering you?" Quinn's low voice surprised Rachel. The warrior hadn't talked to her for the two days since their last conversation. Rachel had been torn between making amends to Quinn and breaking her contract with Santana or continuing even though she was certain Quinn would never forgive her. But Quinn's eyes held no malice, just concern. Quinn continued as if her offer wasn't clear enough. "I can tell them to move along."

Rachel's heart skipped a beat, but she tried to pretend as if Quinn's reciprocation of attention had no effect on her and certainly not her bravado. "That will be unnecessary. This is the life of a bard although I appreciate the offer."

Quinn said nothing, but her eyes lingered at Rachel's response for moments longer than it should have. Rachel felt her heart quickening for another reason as if those hazel eyes were searching for an answer different than the one Rachel offered.

Or perhaps for a different conversation…

For a moment, Rachel imagined Quinn's eyes dart down to her lips, but that wouldn't make sense. Quinn could barely stand her presence, while Rachel couldn't turn away Santana's coin because it meant she would never see Quinn again.

"Lute player! Play me the Nine Linens of Margaret's Dress! Or the one about the Princess's missing shoe!" He snickered into his palm at the references to two of the more bawdy and inappropriate songs to be played in less classier taverns.

"I bet she doesn't even have two linens under her dress. Bet she's barely got one."

Rachel couldn't continue ignoring the men; it was a bad image for the Bard's Guild to refuse to acknowledge a song request. She turned to address the three tavern patrons. "Gentlemen, I appreciate your enthusiasm for the fine arts, but unfortunately I am currently under contract and unable to perform either of your song requests which-" She knew she shouldn't, but Rachel couldn't stop herself from correcting the man. "-by the way, the song you're referring to is called The Princess and the Show."

"Told you a female bard is like a courtesan – even knows the dirty songs." The three men started snickering and blowing her kisses through the air.

The first man leaned forward on his stool, it almost tipped over, but he maintained remarkable balance for being drunk. He grabbed at Rachel's skirt and gave it a quick flip.

Rachel rounded on the man to give him a piece of her mind. She raised her lute to strike at him, but Quinn shot out before Rachel could swing at him. She grasped the man by his collar and slammed him on the table. The back of his head whacked on the sturdy hard wood and by the expression on his face, being thrown was the last thing he expected.

Quinn leaned over him with dark eyes and an unbridled threat in her voice. "You will apologize to the lady."

The other two men started to stand from their chairs, but Santana stepped in behind Quinn and backed them off with a _tsk-tsk_ and a not-so-subtle tap to the hilts of her swords. They froze and waited with baited breath for the next move. The entire tavern had grown quiet and still. Clearly most of the patrons knew the man was part of the patrol and they could see from Quinn and Santana's armament, they were no casual travelers. Their exchange could get ugly fast.

Santana leaned into Quinn from behind and teasingly whispered. " _He's not worth it. All I want is one ale, Quinn. One ale. Then we can defend all the ladies you want."_

Quinn didn't shoo away her friend or even acknowledge Santana's request. Instead, she leaned in closer and practically growled. "I haven't heard your apology yet."

"Fuck off." He spat in Rachel's direction.

Quinn's eyes lit on fire.

Santana shook her head with an equal mix of resignation and amusement. She glanced to the man's nearest friend and shrugged her shoulders with a smirk. "All I wanted was one ale. That's all."

She didn't even have to look at Quinn; Santana threw a left hook at the closest man. At the same time, Quinn slammed the offending tavern patron back onto the table. The wood cracked, mugs went flying, ale rained down from the ceiling, and fist after fist after push after punch erupted throughout the tavern. It wasn't just Santana and Quinn fighting, apparently, there were quite a few drunk patrons who had been looking to blow off steam.

Rachel yelped and avoided a thrown barstool and strapped on her lute.

The chaos was frightening, confusing, messy, and…thrilling.

Rachel felt the rush of excitement taking over her body. Her entire being hummed with anticipation – it felt so familiar – like she was on stage ready to perform. It was a feeling Rachel never allowed to slip by without taking advantage. She pulled out her lute and started to strum to the madness around her. The tavern never missed a beat. In fact, the punches and hits seemed as if they were striking in time to Rachel's strumming.

One of the men made a grab for her lute, but Quinn tripped him with her outstretched boot and slammed a nearby plank of wood over his head. He instantly stilled. Hazel eyes met hers for a half second before Quinn had to defend the bard once more. The blonde haired warrior made a point to make sure no attacker got within five feet of Rachel without her fist meeting them first.

Santana, on the other hand, directed her attention toward the bar counter. The fire in her eyes was noticeably different than Quinn's. While her housecarl sought to protect the bard and continued to make sure Rachel felt safe, Santana spared no such distraction from her destination. She barely acknowledged the small fights happening around her and when someone did make the mistake of getting in her way, Santana quickly dispatched and threw the assailant in the opposite direction.

It took longer than she would have preferred, but Santana finally reached the tavern counter. The man who probably owned the bar was crouched behind the sturdy wood and cautiously glanced up to see Santana leaning over him with a determined expression.

"Your absolute _best_ ale."

The man looked up at Santana like she was a madwoman.

"Are you deaf? I said I want the ale, the _finest ale_ this side of th-" Santana avoided a punch to the face, dropped low and kicked the man's legs out. She stood back up and continued as if there wasn't a full out brawl happening around her. " – this side of the Jerall Mountains. The one your sign boasts about."

Cautiously, the man sloshed a mug across the counter as if he couldn't believe Santana was asking for ale.

Santana snatched the mug before it could fall and saluted the tavernkeep before taking an extra long draught. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flying stool heading for her. She easily ducked while still drinking. She finished her draught with a gasp of air and a smile. "You know…that might be the finest ale this side of the Jerall Mountains. Would you mind keeping my tab open?"

The man barely nodded, but that was all the acknowledgement Santana needed before she walked back into the fray.

 _Captain Quinn, did not need sword or shield  
_ _Her mighty fists and flying kicks, the thugs did yield_

Quinn didn't know who to yell at first. Rachel was spinning in circles over the unconscious bodies of Quinn's opponents while singing verses and Santana…

…

…

Santana was drinking ale in one hand and punching with the other. There was a total disregard to almost all of her fighting form except when someone would get close enough to knock the ale out of her hand, then Santana would unleash a legitimate left hook. And really Quinn knew that Santana could take care of herself.

 _The Great Bear of Windhelm_

It was the bard that Quinn kept glancing to.

 _The Light of Skyrim_

It was the bard that somehow barely stayed out of harm's way, but always remained just in sight of Quinn.

 _The Masterful Swordswoman_

It was the bard that wasn't content with one verse, but was in the middle of a litany about Quinn.

 _Protector of Maidens_

It was the bard that she couldn't quite stop thinking about.

Rachel gracefully stepped over a recently felled foe and made sure she caught Quinn's eye before she revised her previous line.

 _Protector of Maidenheads_

Quinn's eyes widened at the brazen, dark look in Rachel's eyes and didn't realize her cheeks burned bright red. In fact, she wasn't aware of the fist flying toward her face. One of the original offenders finally made the first real attack on the housecarl and knocked Quinn back three paces before she recovered.

Rachel gasped in surprise and cringed, but furiously strummed her lute to encourage Quinn to recover and fight back against the man.

 _With the reflexes of a Sabre Cat_

Santana beat down another person and looked over just in time to see Quinn get hammered in the face. It was clear that Quinn would be fine, but Santana couldn't help to give her companion a little extra _encouragement._ "Quinn, you should really do a better job _avoiding_ their fists –" Santana kicked an already defeated opponent. She smirked and mocked from a distance using words she had heard from Quinn for most of her life. "Your footwork is sloppy and distracted."

Quinn didn't give Santana the satisfaction of acknowledging her.

 _The First of her Name  
_ _The Chosen of Ulfric  
_ _Daughter of Russel  
_ _Future Commander of Armies_

The fighting finally slowed down and soon the only people standing were Quinn, Santana, and Rachel…

…who was still singing and rounding into what would be a second verses of accolades for Quinn.

 _Her many titles were like arrows to rain  
_ _Over the bodies of her defeated enemies  
_ _Single handedly the magnificent Quinn conque-_

"Hey!" Santana barked.

From the expression on Rachel's face, it was clear she didn't appreciate being stopped in the middle of what would have been a grand crescendo. "Yes?"

"Single handedly?" Santana dropped her drained mug of ale on the last man she had knocked out as if to prove how false Rachel's assessment of the fight was. "What was I doing the whole time? I fought too. What about me?"

"You're quite right. How could I forget your contributions, Santana?" Rachel lifted her lute once more to continue and flashed Santana a stage smile.

 _Here we watched the mighty Quinn save the day  
_ _And her little sidekick Santana was just okay_

"Who are you calling little, dwarf? I'm not her sidekick. She's _my_ housecarl." Santana turned on the bard and pointed a threatening finger. "Don't forget who's paying you!"

Quinn rolled her eyes and picked up a coin pouch from the man who had originally insulted Rachel. In the past few days, she had noticed that Santana's plan to agitate her with a personal bard had started to backfire and it was Santana who was more agitated. Of course, Quinn could have told Santana that her personality would never get along with someone like Rachel. Quinn could have additionally told Santana from day one that they would get on each other's nerves, but it was more entertaining to watch Santana slowly come to the realization herself.

The bard was self-assured, self-determined, tenacious, and those were only a few of Rachel's qualities. Rachel happened to be very proud and provocative and Quinn could see the insults between Rachel and Santana escalating. Quinn walked toward the tavern keeper at the bar and prayed to Talos the whole incident would blow over.

It didn't…

Rachel furiously strummed at her lute to recapture the magic of her singing that Santana continued to interrupt. She turned around to address the rest of the tavern as if this dirty floor were High King Torygg's private stage and the tavern patrons were his jarls and thanes.

 _My employer would like to remind all gathered that she paid  
_ _To have me sing and follow this beautiful deadly maid  
_ _And that she'll only continue to line my pocket  
_ _If I let her control my lyrics like a common strumpet  
_ _But allay your worries and fear not my good fellows  
_ _Not even threat of death could turn this bard yellow  
_ _For it is not the clink of coin that has captured my interest  
_ _But the beauty of Quinn's eyes that I seek for remittance_

Quinn froze.

Her hand hoovered in the air as she tried to pay the tavern owner for the damages. She desperately attempted to hide her emotions because she feared that if even one person saw her cheeks turn pink with embarrassment that Santana would never let her forget it.

What was Rachel's game?

Or was this Santana's?

But that look Rachel had given her in the middle of the fight when Santana wasn't paying attention. Santana had nothing to do with that.

Quinn dropped the coins into the man's hand and quickly brushed back some of her blonde hair to give her a few moments to gather herself _and_ to avoid Santana's eyes.

"Very sorry for the inconvenience. I think this should cover the expenses."

"Yeah that should be good, but what about her tab." He nodded his head toward Santana.

"Of course." Quinn gave the man the identical amount of coins she had given him for the broken tables and stools. His eyes widened at the sight. "That should suffice."

"Yes, milady, and please come back anytime."

* * *

Rachel left the tavern quickly to avoid the glares from the patrons and Santana, and because she was unsure if Quinn was listening to her song anymore. Santana flashed Rachel a heated scowl as she walked past the bard. Rachel decided to ignore Santana's temper and to focus on making sure Quinn didn't miss the meanings in her song. She made space for herself in Solitude's crowd and picked up her instrument once more.

 _Armed with a nasty expression and a mug of ale  
_ _Santana sloshed thru the battle like a drunken snail  
_ _It could have been that Santana was just bone weary  
_ _Cause not being as great as Quinn must be dreary  
_ _And now I've caused my employer's face to sour  
_ _Which means I must stick my course and remain dour  
_ _To extol the elations of the elegant gallant  
_ _The honorable and skilled knight errant_

 _Quinn, I don't mean to sing in adulations  
_ _But your unheralded nobility inspires my jubilations  
_ _And definitively increase my frustrations  
_ _And drive my desire to satisfy the most …basic of ministrations_

 _Oh! how many verses must I sing and write  
_ _Before I no longer guess at what could only be unparalleled delight?  
_ _When Quinn sends, but a single glance in my direction  
_ _I desperately crave a more physical means of satisfaction_

 _How adept she handles her weapons  
_ _How sure her finger must curl when she beckons_

 _Oh how exquisite her lips to part  
_ _Oh how divine her legs to spr-_

 _Owf!_

Rachel jerked back from where she had been singing on the street corner into the alleyway next to the tavern. She came face to face with the subject of her rather exciting singing material.

Quinn's eyes were focused and – for lack of a better word – Rachel found them penetrating. All the lines she had been meaning to insert into her verse faded in Quinn's presence. The warrior was still sweating from the exertions of the brawl in the tavern, but the quickness in her breath was due to more recent, more immediate reasons.

Rachel's song had been impossible to ignore.

Even worse, Quinn wasn't sure if she was reacting to the content of the songs or to the singer herself. And Quinn feared the more she allowed Santana's game to continue, the more likely one of them could get hurt. Her jaw still stung from when she had lost concentration in the fist fight.

Quietly, in perhaps the most humble voice Quinn had heard Rachel use, she softly addressed Quinn. "You didn't have to do anything in there. I'm quite capable of handling myself."

"I-"

Before Quinn could suggest that it was her duty or some ridiculous code as Rachel was sure the warrior lived by, she cut Quinn off by pressing a soft touch to where she had been punched. Quinn's cheek burned more from Rachel's fingers than from the hit. Just as softly, Rachel pulled her hand back. "However, I am very grateful that you did step in when you did…" Rachel tilted her chin down and didn't shy away from Quinn's hazel eyes. Her voice rolled against the stones of the alley and up Quinn's neck. "…captain."

Quinn's words stuck in her throat at Rachel's soft words of gratitude. It seemed the bard chose to be brash and excitable when they were in public or with Santana, but whenever they were alone, her words would soften and while her will was still indomitable, Rachel was more willing to bend.

 _Captain_

The title felt fresh and foreign, but on Rachel's tongue it was like a hushed whisper, taboo and illicit.

"How did you know I was made captain?" Quinn remembered herself. "I haven't even told Santana."

"I know a great many things, captain." Rachel's eyes sparkled. "And the things I don't know, I have means of finding out especially when I have the proper motivation."

Quinn had a mind to interrogate the bard as to the source of her information. If there was a leak in the command here in Solitude, it would be best to discover it before more secrets escaped.

Rachel must have noticed the concentration in Quinn's face; she calmly reached between them and squeezed Quinn's wrist. "I promise your secret and the source I obtained the information from are secure. You have nothing to worry about, but a woman's got to have some secrets especially around someone like you. Mystery has a way of attracting curiosity."

"You'll do more than attract curiosity if you continue to follow us around." Quinn ignored the way Rachel seemed to suggest that Quinn was fighting some sort of attraction. "You would be safer staying at the Bard's College."

"I have been contracted otherwise."

"You can break your contract, Rachel."

"I am a woman of my word, like I imagine you are. Therefore, I cannot."

Quinn groaned. Rachel was infuriating, stubborn, and right. Quinn would never break her word and she wouldn't respect someone who broke theirs.

"I will pay you three times as much as Santana is paying you."

"My dear captain, I appreciate the sentiment and your change of tactic from chivalry to bribery. It makes sense to appeal directly to my appreciation of free enterprise, but let me assure you of something." Rachel pushed off the balls of her feet and pressed up. Her right hand brazenly used the hard plate over Quinn's stomach to balance herself.

Rachel leaned in. _"You couldn't afford me."_

Quinn tensed at the contact, but all too easily, she felt Rachel purposely exhale against the nape of her neck. Her lips caressed the fabric of Quinn's tunic, but all Quinn could feel was the bard's voice. Quinn's throat constricted and her body tightened around Rachel's statement. If she had even the slightest bit of control, she might have sworn by Talos's sword or something dramatic like Santana, but all words eluded her.

Rachel appeared to enjoy the way she could feel the captain squirm under her gaze. She relished the way Quinn could barely speak in her presence. It had been a long week; an impossibly long week for Rachel. By the end of the second day in Santana's contract, Rachel had come face to face with the possibility that she not only admired Quinn, but felt inexplicably drawn to stare at her profile for long amounts of time. By day four, Rachel could barely sleep without writing at least three scrolls of verse dedicated to Quinn's valor and honor.

By the end of day five, Rachel filled another six scrolls with less virtuous thoughts regarding Quinn.

Much later that night, Rachel filled the air with a litany of soft exhales and moans that were nothing like a traditional ballad, but Quinn's name whispered over and over again.

Now on day six, Rachel had every intention of enjoying Quinn's responses to her rather bold suggestions.

Quinn tried to regain some control over the situation. It wasn't often she was caught off guard. "You haven't heard my price yet."

Rachel smiled softly into Quinn's neck as she pulled back. Her eyes sparkled with amusement. "Perhaps I'm waiting for you to offer a different kind of currency, _captain._ "

There was no denying Rachel's intentions and if Quinn had turned red in the tavern, it was nothing to the shade she turned now.

But this time, she didn't freeze.

Quinn reached out and caught Rachel's wrist before the bard could walk out of the alleyway.

"Owf!" It was the second time Quinn caught Rachel unawares, but only for a moment. Rachel quickly recovered; she batted her eyes. "Is there something else, captain?"

"You don't have to keep calling me captain. It would be nice if you called me Quinn."

Rachel's smile only grew. "I kinda like how the word captain sounds; besides, I only want to say your name when we're alone."

"We're alone now."

"But you still haven't offered me anything I want. So why should I give you something you want? You may be skilled in the ways of war, but your bartering leaves much to be desired. I would be willing to offer you lessons, but only when you're ready." Rachel waited for more than a few seconds to allow Quinn the time to think over her options, but when the warrior did nothing, Rachel smiled softly and started to pull away from Quinn. She might not have been a trained tactician, but Rachel understood that a loss in one battle was sometimes necessary when playing a much lengthier strategy.

Rachel continued to walk, but not without a parting verse from a well-known song, popular in the southern regions of Skyrim and extending into Cyrodiil.

 _If you wish for song and lips to part,  
_ _Would you call her name as she departs?  
_ _Or would you linger ever closer to hear  
_ _Melodies that bards only sing against the ear?_

 _Bold an-_

 _Owf!_

For a third time, Quinn pulled her back and Rachel was about to reprimand her, but strong fingers slid up the side of her neck and into her thick hair and erased every word and rhyme she ever learned. Quinn closed the space between them with confidence and leaned into Rachel's body. Surprised, but more than satisfied, Rachel met Quinn's eyes. They were hooded with more than desire, but at the last second, she waited.

Rachel clenched her thighs hard as Quinn's look rocked through her body. Her lips parted in a sharp inhale. It was all the permission Quinn needed. The captain eased her fingers down the base of Rachel's neck and brushed back up. Rachel's response was uncontrolled, uninhibited – wanton – she tilted her chin up right as Quinn's lips brushed against hers.

Quinn's lips were soft and curious, she had never kissed a woman before and she didn't know why Rachel affected her so greatly, but since Santana had sent the bard to follow her, Quinn couldn't shake the insatiable desire she had harbored just to kiss her. If anything, she had wanted to kiss Rachel and be done with it. Santana was the one always taking another girl upstairs or to the back of a tavern.

But Rachel…

It was supposed to be quick, a short exchange, and they would be done, but Rachel's hands found Quinn's hips. She tugged at Quinn's belt until their hips rubbed and created delicious friction. By the Divines, that single moment of contact sparked an untamed desire between the two of them. Rachel moaned and gripped Quinn's sides at the same time her lips opened. Unable to resist or pull away, Quinn deepened the kiss and followed Rachel's lead backwards until they were flush against the wall of the tavern. Quinn had never felt such a deep ache of desire for another person before. They rocked against the wall, tasting lips and mouth, Rachel's hands explored the contours and curves of Quinn's backside and dipped her fingers underneath armor, straps, and shirt material until her nails could outline the straight edges of Quinn's hipbones. Every drag of Rachel's nails, every tug of her lips and teeth sent uncontrollable shivers of pleasure straight through Quinn's core.

Rachel's wandering fingers finally came to a point right below Quinn's navel, but at the last moment, she pulled back.

Both women reluctantly withdrew from each other's lips, but not away. Rachel's hands still possessively rested over Quinn's hips and the captain had yet to remove her fingers from the bard's hair. The air between them remained charged and neither of them could ignore they were close enough to exchange quickened breaths.

Finally, Quinn opened her eyes intending to say something of an apology for taking advantage of Rachel, even if she felt like the one at a disadvantage around Rachel.

Before she could say anything, Rachel bounced on her toe and pressed a quick kiss to silence Quinn's words.

"I think we may have found a common interest-" Rachel's mouth turned in amusement.

"I-"

Rachel kissed her one more time. "It's bad form to try and strike a deal so quickly after the first round of bargaining. It's always better to give a little and leave them wanting more." She paused to let Quinn think about the words. "And you do want more, right?"

"Yes." Quinn didn't even have time to think before the word escaped her lips.

"Then maybe it's best if I keep my contract with Santana so we can continue this discussion later?"

Quinn swallowed hard and couldn't believe that not only had Rachel managed to get everything she wanted, but had done it with almost no resistance from the usually stalwart captain.

Rachel smiled softly and pressed a light kiss on Quinn's cheek knowing that she had won. Her lips caressed Quinn's cheekbone and rekindled the fire wound tight in Quinn's core. She practically moaned as Rachel whispered. "I look forward to seeing you and continuing this later, _Quinn.._."

Stunned, disarmed, and still reeling from the effects of that kiss, Quinn watched Rachel exit the alleyway helpless to the woman's charms. A few minutes later, Santana happened to glance into the side street and notice Quinn leaning against the tavern.

"Quinn?" Santana growled impatiently. "Where have you been? I've been dodging guards since we left the tavern and you're literally standing here?"

No response.

"What's wrong with you?" Santana grabbed her housecarl's arm and started pulling to the backend of the alley. "Khajiit got your tongue?"

Santana smirked and continued. "Or maybe its bard got your tongue?"

That time Quinn's cheeks burned bright red and she took her hand back from Santana. The quickness of Quinn's motions were not lost on Santana. She immediately turned around to face her friend.

A smirk replaced Santana's agitation. "By Talos's favorite lute! Bard _did_ get your tongue! Where is she? What did you do? Details, Quinn! I can't believe you fooled around with another woman and I didn't get to see it!" Santana was grinning uncontrollably as they slipped into the streets.

Quinn did her best to ignore all of Santana's questions.

Santana didn't care. She didn't need Quinn to respond. This was everything Santana never knew she wanted. "I can't believe I am saying this, but Rachel was worth every coin to see _the_ Quinn Fabray blush!"

 **End**


End file.
